to the uncivilized tribes amongst which they settle, our Pilgrim forefathers had been such! But it is out of nature and even the christianity, to which it is akin, is deemed insane, by the christianity of the world, all bristling with bayonets, ready to pour showers of death from the cannon's mouth, and crimsoned over and over, with its brother's blood—such are armed colonies. They have always been, and must always be, while man is a sinner, and while christianity remains the proud and bloody thing which it yet is in this particular, in almost all the churches—like the blast of death to the poor native!! Strangers come, and he is swept from the land of his forefathers—their fields wave rich with corn—their trees hang heavy with fruit—their church spires pierce the skies—their outward Sabbaths are kept by multitudes—commerce, arts, arms flourish—literature is rife, and palace-like are the dwellings which adorn the land. But the law of God is meted and parceled out, at will, or by tradition. A man, walking close with Christ, is deemed a lunatic. Fashion and custom and public opinion are the gods, slavery is nursed in the lap of republics,—and the aboriginies have perished; or linger in oppressed and scattered remnants, a memento
receiving the sick old man, as promised, he immediately led him off to his hut, and became as a son to him. His best of every thing was appropriated to the dying stranger. When the wind blew chill through the rain, he hastened to cover, or to kindle a little fire to warm him. When the sun burnt and the air was still, he made him a couch under the thick tamarind, or sat beside and fanned his fainting brow. The master heard the facts, was affected, and coming kindly to the cottage said, " What makes you love that old man so 1 Is he your father?" "No, massa!" replied the young African, with great emotion, "he no my father!" "Is he your uncle!" "No, massa!" " Is he your brother—your neighbor—your friend, naming every connection he could think of: still the young African, mournfully answered, "No!" "Who is he then," exclaimed the master with surprise, "what makes you love him so." " Massa," replied the young African, solemnly, " dat man my worst enemy—derfore me love him so—when me Live in my own country, wid my own dear fader and moder dat man come steal me—carry me away—sell me to de slave dealers—massa me no more see my country—or my fader or my moder. Yes, massa, dat man my worst enemy—derfore me love him so, cause massa, in dat good book you teach me read, de great God, say, 'Love your enemies—if dy enemy hunger feed him; if he thirst, give him "drink—be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil wid good.' "
6*
